Holy Week in Jerusalem

Being in Jerusalem is an amazing gift, but being here during the week of Passover and the upcoming Resurrection Day (Easter) is something I can't quite put into words. Last night I and a few friends had a potluck dinner. There was nothing "religious" behind it, just friends spending time together, enjoying one another's company over some delicious food. But, in the back of my mind, I knew that last night would have been the night of the Last Supper. I had some red wine, and when the matzah (unleavened bread) was brought out, I couldn't help but think of the symbolism. But first, let me explain Passover in Jerusalem.

I knew once I returned from my hiking trip I would need to go to the grocery store; I was out of pretty much everything that has become a staple here for me: bread, pita, spaghetti, and cereal. Well, and cookies. Chocolate chip. So on Monday, me and my roommate Amanda walked up the hill to the supermarket. I was trying to find a container of cottage cheese when I heard Amanda say, "I hope you're not wanting cereal." I turned around to see a large white plastic sheet covering the cereal aisle in its entirety. It took me a few seconds to realize what was going on. I looked down the shelves and realized my favorite granola bars were also covered. Panicking, I walked swiftly to the pasta aisle: covered. Passover would start that evening, but already they had visually removed the chametz (leaven or yeast) from the store; this comprised of numerous sections and whole aisles. So Stacey would not be getting bread, pita, spaghetti, cereal, or chocolate chip cookies. Or Reese Cups. Those aren't kosher for Passover either (I'm learning...there is kosher, and then there's kosher for Passover). The Feast of Unleavened Bread is 7 days long. So far I am surviving. I bought a package of matzah, which I have had before, but it's not my favorite when it comes to taste--it simply doesn't have any. However it's not bad with jelly. The matzah itself is interesting:

 

 

It looks like a giant cracker, but it is very symbolic. In the New Testament, Jesus talks about leaven; it is a symbol of sin. Paul talked about it in 1 Corinthians 5:6-8, saying we should be purged of old leaven that we may be "new lumps", since we are "truly unleavened", and then he goes on to say that Christ, our Passover lamb, was sacrificed for us. I think I'm ok with calling myself a lump. So the matzah is without leaven/yeast, or is without "sin". Notice the look of the matzah. It is piereced and has dark brown stripes. Jesus, the sinless one, our Passover sacrifice, was also pierced through His hands, feet, and his side on the cross, and He was covered in stripes from being flogged before His crucifixion. Isaiah 53 describes this event several centuries before it came to pass. During the Passover seder, three pieces of matzah are placed in a matzah tash, a pouch with three pockets. The matzah in the middle is broken in half, and one piece (called the "afikomen"), is wrapped in a linen cloth and hidden somewhere in the house, so at the end of the seder meal, the children search the house for the hidden piece. Jesus also was broken for us; He told His disciples during the Last Supper when He broke the bread that it was His body. When He died on the cross, and his body was taken down, it was put in a linen cloth. The word "afikomen" is from a Greek root word meaning "I came". Wow.

 

This morning (once we got Daylight Savings figured out), a small group of us went to the Garden Tomb to attend the Good Friday service. It was simple, beautiful, and powerful. We sang hymns, prayed for the peace of Jerusalem, for Christians here in the Middle East, and others. The message, entitled "Victorious Victim", was one I will probably never forget. One of the points he made was that we usually look forward to Resurrection Day, but forget that the victory was won on the cross. Just before He died, Jesus said "it is finished"--not "I am finished", but "it": the work of redemption and salvation. There is a "Son-rise" service this Sunday at 6:30 and I cannot wait to stand in line; a gentelman we met this morning said we should be there at least an hour early because there will be at least 1,000 people, probably more. Though I relish in the fact that the grave could  not hold Him and that He is alive (and He is coming back), today I am lingering in His completed work on the cross and what that means for me. What does it mean to you?

 

One of the hymns we sang today